Sun and Windows and Marvellous Things!
by Tamaki
Summary: ...Ib stays up all night, when she isn't at work. There is the splat and swish of a paintbrush. An artist's muse. But, sometimes there are too many splats with too little swishes, and then she hears the creak of Ib's chair. Her breathing is laboured. -Mary central fic. Eventual GarryxIb-
1. Prologue

Sun and Windows and Marvellous Things!

Rated Teen for Implied Content and Language

* * *

The wind whispered in her ears, the sunlight glinting in her hair. She took a breath. If she closed her eyes, she would see the sun was blessing her on her triumphs, victories that she had, and the wind was her constant companion, eager to hear her tales and her amazing exploits, especially in math!

She grinned at the thought, pausing, absorbing the light, _one more second_, before swinging off the window perch. This high school student always had a taste for adventure, and wasn't afraid of anything! She would battle any foes, and _woo_ any men, if she was, she smirked, inclined to.

She didn't save damsels in distresses though. Or dames. She, well, can't. Insert a shrug of her shoulders. Besides, the wind whispered from the open window. It was promising her things, it sounded so dulcet, so soft.

So what the trees outside thrashed?

"Hey _giiirl_! Is that you?"

She perked, toward her corporeal, really, truly, nice friend. "Melody!" she squealed, cupping her friend's hands, forgetting another time when she did that, somewhere dark and stale, and- "When did you come back from Vancouver? I hear the weather's _beautiful_ there, and there are flowers, and grass. Did you eat a lot of food? What did you eat? Did you gain _10 000_ pounds in weight, did you work out? How was the band? Did you kick their butts? Did you," she winked,"meet a cute ~_guuuy~?_" here, she scooted closer. Raised an eyebrow.

Her friend was between sputtering and laughing,"Piffch, really hun? Really? You ask me not 20 questions, but _2000 _questions?" crimson filled her friend's cheeks. She knew the colour well. Sometimes, she became nauseous, other times, she remembered her sister's red irises.

She traced her friend-in-band's mouth "Is _crimson_ in thy lips and in thy cheeks?" she gave a dramatic gasp, hands to her mouth, awed. Announced it to the world. She added in the suggestive eyebrows, just in case.

Her friend raised her hands, calling on a god, perhaps? "Really, _really_? Yer bringing _Shakespeare_ in this?" There was a pleased look to her face. Best not to tell her that these were the words of a distraught lover before poisoning themselves. Ah, Romeo and Juliet. A bell shrilled.

"Well, _only_ the best for my dear vir-"

The bell rang. Melody her-friend-still-not-getting-laid looked relieved and sad. She had that effect on people." Well, if you really wanna know," Melody wagged a finger," we will have to meet for lunch later," a wink, oooh, sassy. Students began cluttering the hallways. "Anyway, I gotta go, talk to you later!"

She put a hand on her hip"Yeah, you talk to me alll about him, mkay?" with a wink and a blowing kiss, she smiled, watching her friend, so embarrassed over something so natural.

After all, wasn't it natural to have impulses? It was, r-right?

She skimmed those thoughts, focused on what she had to do. Right. She had a spare. A spare didn't mean she could loiter around, no siree, that was so _boooring_. As president of Youth in Philantrophy –which, she is proud of, thank you very much- there were lots of stuff to do! Sure, it didn't get all the popularity, and the name was pretty silly, but this girl could care less about that!

It was nice helping people, seeing the need in their eyes, the desperation, and it hurt, hurt, when no one recognized you, _saw you_ as the same, instead, making you _them_. Being able to squash that, letting them know that they aren't alone, that there is no they, just a we, helped.

The wind reached her ears. _Who is it _really_ helping? _The window rattled, the frame, _the frame_…

Nevermind that! She had to help plan for the Soup Kitchen forms, getting the parental permissions, and they were collecting books for a burned down school.

The wind's words resonated in her ears.

Well, this president of Youth in Philantrophy had enough of windows! Geez, she'd get sunburn, or sun cancer (she researched, intent on wanting, _becoming_ human. Humans couldn't help her, they looked at her weird with her questions and NOT UNDERSTANDING, so she had all the inanimate to help her. The question was, _could_ she get skin cancer?) at this rate! Stuffy libraries -_Couldshegetskincancer?_- were the best place for math homework! A lot of her friends were shocked, with her exuberant personality, how she could take math so seriously because it was the epitome of booooredom and stupiiidity. Shocked expressions were guaranteed when she told people she was taking _university_ math, oh and, she was on _golden _honour roll to boot. Teehee. (Twirl your hair, shuffle your feet, good, you look innocent, cute, everyone will like you, no one will hate youleaveyoulovemelovemenot).

Psychology, well, not too many people seemed surprised about that one. When this golden –like her hair, like the rose she pretendsheneeded- honour roll student wanted something, she could be nice to _anyone_. She could tease them just right, jab at their flaws and strengths, and not have to reveal much about herself. Not give any substance in conversation. A good distraction, like a lemon hard candy that you _really_ wanna try, even though you took it from someone and it was important to them, and then it's gone, dissolved.

It can rot you.

That's-that's why she liked talking to her sister. This pretender didn't have to, well, fabricate her life (she's had enough fabrication, thank you very much). Not the important bits. She didn't have to explain how she found literature repulsive, how they played with their characters, and set it up to see, _hmmm, what broke this one, hmmm, how is this humiliating_ after being given five seconds to really FEEL it, and exploit them. Drama wasn't her thing, she was too busy –repentingforherMISTA- and, art, well (here, she gives a lilting smile she learns give a gentle appearance to her face, she learned it, in a book. How to read body language, how to exhibit it, how to mask crippling loneliness because really, she's happy, and she doesn't know if smiling can increase endorphins for her, but this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, so she's human, right?) that's her sister's field. Down the staircase she goes.

Her sister's field to stand up for her beliefs, why she thinks the NDP is a great party –this mathematician likes Stephen Harper best-, lining it with facts, and bulletin points, tell you random facts about dolphins, and how the British hacked into a terrorist website and replaced the recipe to make a bomb with cupcakes, cupcakes! And, the best part about that cupcake story is that she can tell you the name of the terrorist group, what the Brits were up to, and even more, if people would just _listen_!

Round the corner. Pause.

It was… also her sister's fields to paint purple, blues, yellows, reds, but most prominently, purple, and somehow, it works, when, really, those colours are ridiculous, but they work and she wished she realized this before how well _they_ could mix, and how sad Ib looks, but, but!

But- Ib gazed more and more at her with that look reserved when she painted with those stupid colours, that look like they could work, but really, it's impossible. Right?

Her footsteps echo in the hallway. Clunk, clunk, _squeak_, and she is on the floor, her bag crumpled.

Ib's pointed looks, the paintings, the-does, Ib know? Of-of course she doesn't! With her quiet look, and nose-in-the-book or hands-busy-painting syndrome, she seems passive, yeah, but _this_ possessor out of all of them knows better. They told her about how she braved a Lady in Blue for a dying plant, showed the ant his picture, and she saw how the brunette prepared herself, before punching a man –that helped her, gave her candy- _twice. _See, she hurt him, but, it was for the better, and he finally came to and she was so happy and-

_ Has she looked happy since?_

The-girl-not-grieving ripped open her zipper, looking for her pencils, homework, and, and-

Trembled. There's a picture Ib has put in her backpack. An elegant happy birthday. Nothing more, nothing less. But, if she looks hard, she sees three roses. She crumples it.

It was _their_ fault. They shouldn't have come here with their fears, and wishes, and-

_ Humanity. _How dare they taunt her! It wasn't her fault that they were the ones who entered her world, it wasn't her fault that they trusted her, that they-

Tears pricked at her eyes. Fat droplets land on her bag.

She bawled harder.

What if they were...

Paint?

* * *

AN: Hello! It feels strange to impulsively post something. As it is, I am working on four fanfics right now, and have no intention on posting them until they are complete. With me though, they become full blown novels. Anyway, I have edited this twice, however, due to the fact it is quite early in the morning, and I need my sleep, there are problem some things I missed doing. Chances are, I will revise this when I get up sometime.

Don't know why I posted it, but I did feel for Mary, and wondered what it would be like for her to live in the real world, and to deal with all the mixed emotions she has. Mary was a wonderful villian, and you can't really blame her for what she did. In this, she is in high school, probably grade 11-12, and not so much dealing with regret, but guilt. A little bit of regret because maybe, _maybe_, there had been a loop hole she just missed.

I may continue it. We'll see. Impulsive fics get me nowhere usually. This is based on the _Together Forever_ ending. Reviews are always appreciated. ^-^

Update: Revised it. More so what the wind says, and the ending bit. I am a lot happier with it now. :D


	2. I Picture Perfect

**Summary**

It was their fault. They shouldn't have come here with their fears, and wishes, and their, their humanity! How dare they taunt her! It wasn't her fault that they were the ones who entered her world, it wasn't her fault that they trusted her, told her things, it wasn't her fault that Ib liked her, that they- Blue drops leaked down her cheeks. She wondered if they were paint

* * *

**Rated T**

Swearing

Implied Content

* * *

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own Mary, Ib, their parents, the lines at **1 **(those are by Shakespeare), the allusion to _patronums _at **2**(J.K. Rowling) the songs listed (Butterfly), among other things. The only thing I own is the way this is written, and how the characters will change, grow, and interact. Their base personality belongs to their creators.

**3** is not a disclaimer, but a note that there are water soluble crayons, and the brand Mary is describing are the _Lyra Aquacolour brand._

I suppose, the setting is my own since it is a made up town in Canada. Or maybe, I will have it somewhere I have visited.

* * *

"Please? Pretty pretty pretty pretty prettypretty PLEEASE?"

"…"

"PLEASE?"

"Why should I spend money?"

Mary bats her eye lashes,"Because you're my sister, and you looove me?"

"Mmmm."

The blonde huffs,"because you have money and it's my birrrthday?"

"…"

Mary sighs, entwines her finger and hair together. Grrr! She's been begging for five minutes! Ib could be so infuriating! Seriously!

She looks at the ground. Hmph! Ib doesn't deserve to see Mary's pretty eyes!"Because money is money?" she mutters petulantly.

"And… ?"

Grrr. "You are a great, magnificient sister?"

Ib doesn't say anything at first, but she can tell by how her head leans to the side, and her fingers interlace behind her that she is amused. Cocky.

_Curse that hallway, and its, tear inducing ways! _Mary kicks the ground. Gosh, what a debacle THAT had been. Who, seriously, let it rip and cried in the middle of the hallway? Besides disrupting classes, its embarrassing! And, no one asks you to move if you're crying, oh nooo, they just let you be, and the gossip splatters like bacon fat flung from the pan! –She hates bacon, on that note. And greasy food.-

It's only afterwards that you realize you probably made a whole lot of classes feel awkward. And, more than a little of those students know who you are. She could hear the rumours already.

_Hey boooy! Did ya hear that crazy chick Mary finally lost it? _Waaah!She had banged -well, rested, but that's besides the point- her head against her bag, then the wall, then against the bag _on_ the wall, snivelling. Nevermind double whammy; it was a _triple_ whammy. Ugggh.

Originally, she was going to drag Ib regardless, but now, _now_ she is not only spending time with her, SHE IS BUYING HER STOMACH'S HEART'S DESIRE. Oh yes. She sorta-kinda blamed Ib _completely_ for sneaking in that card she made her. Sure, it had been a nice gesture. Ib seemed to get Mary's paint-is-evil vibe, and had used pencil crayons, and some special, fancy markers. You know, the kind the top of the top artists get. And, Ib probably got that Mary was as transfixed on roses since she freaking drew them.

Branches creak. _It wasn't their fault at all, was it?_

Shaddup, she thought to herself. What kind of creeper sister violate the other's bag? Creepy ones! So, after she cleaned herself up, applied some –ehyug- make-up –shiver- to cover her burning eyes, she was bright as day!

Her vengeance said ditto.

Ib's arms are crossed though. Dang.

"Because Mcdonald's is not as evil as it could be?"

Her arms uncross.

"And I said, pretty, pretty, pretty, please?"

She still didn't like it. Ib, working at Mcdonalds. With all those slaughtered cows, enough grease to bathe in, and that heat, well, she was sure the smell of McDonald's screamed BO! Or, well, shRiEKED BO. Shriek, reek? Get it? No? Ugh. Mary fiddles with her bag, feels her camera's cool case. _Soon, soon._

Ib could do so much better.

She's told Ib this, but all she does is shrugs her shoulders, and sometimes, sometimes, graces Mary with her _heavenly _presence a reply. And what is her reply? "It pays." Drove her nuts, she tells ya! Her sister can't give that superb etheral –ethereal, whatever!- feel when glitters with, well, grease. Now, in order for Mary to get revenge. What sucks though is that to set the pathways of madness, _Ib_ got _her_ revenge by getting Mary to practically grovel at McDonald's feet, like some overweight god. Or fat, rich man.

Curse you irony!

For a moment, she pictures Ib as the angel of retribution. Destruction wreaked by her wings, and instead of feathers fluttering down, big droplets of super hot grease falls to the ground. Her hair is a dull halo of vegetable and animal oil.

Ewww.

There was no swaying her though, and she had to admit, she was pretty high up there. Being assistant manager of the store and all. Welll, for a food chain.

Just, she feels confused.

Ib could do better.

Why doesn't she?

But, this wasn't the time to think about such things. It's her birthday, and she should be happy, and if she's happy, then that will make her sister happy, right? Focus on the task at hand. And what is that task? Entertain her, make her laugh, be dramatic so nothing can be taken serious.

Ib says nothing, still. Well, if Ib wants dramatic, she'll GET dramatic!

"O," she'll make her _eyelashes _dramatic," how this _fountain_ of love resembleth  
The uncertain glory of a McDonald Hamburger;  
Which now shows all the beauty of _glittering_," here, she bends her hands near her face, like those cheesy maids do before they faint.,"  
And by and by _eating _ takes all away." **1. **

She tugs on Ib's shirt," You can't resist my love!" especially if she just quoted from _Two Gentleman from Verona_ by Shakespeare. Yuck.

"Perhaps." Ib ponders. "It is your birthday."

Ib could be so _meaaa- _wait! She _is_ going to take her? Mary claps her hands,"Yay!" they could do all sorts of fun stuff! They'd check out random stores, and eat lots and _lots _of sweets –and she meant a LOT of sweets-, and they would have _so much fun_.

The brunnete chuckles,"Who _truly _is the eldest?"

She would have reacted and pouted, but she's on cloud 18, never mind cloud nine –nine was when Ib first met her- so she is _definitely _not going to let the sadistic, corrupt, Ib sour her mood! She grabs Ib's wrist. Full speed ahead! She's skipping with enough merriment to make a _Patronum _jealous. **2**

Ib isn't budging. "Wah-?"

Her sister's finger is pointing in the… opposite direction, "St. Histoire Mall?" there is a teasing lilt, a quirk to her eyebrows. Well, she isn't going to focus how she was going in the opposite direction. Let's look at Ib's brows instead! See, that's where Mary learned the ways of the raised eyebrow. She was still a grasshopper, while Ib was a black belt. In her mind, she bows down to Ib, and asks her,"Teach me, sensei, for I am a mere grasshopper" or whatever cheesy lines come from _Kung Fu_ kid –well, she doesn't think thy actually _call _themselves grasshoppers-. And, when Mary was done learning from her sensei of all eyebrows and humiliating skills, she'll fight fair and square with her. _I will rise from a grasshopper to a _bunny, _or a frog, sensei._ Speaking of which, she has maniacal plans partner in crime, a bunny. _Soon, soon._

Oh god, it's then, she realizes she's been chortling, and Ib's eyebrows shoots WAY up again, so, she knows she went to la la land.

Dangit! She almost forgot to be embarrassed!

"I shall," how does she get her _lips_ to quirk?" grasshopper."

Oh goodness, oh. Oh. She just, well, said her thoughts out loud, didn't she? "Right, onwards!" she points in the direction Ib is, and marches forth. She isn't going to get the satisfaction of seeing her blush, no siree. What happened to respecting your elders and stuff? She doesn't voice that one, because she knows Ib make some jab at her being elderly! Waaah! But, she gets over it.

For awhile they move, the leaves beneath their feet, and the call of geese speaks for them. It's October of their final year. Everyone is so busy, so set in motion on their own personal axis. Mary, too, has things to sort out with. She has 20-50 pages of Calculus to review tonight. Jae Young had mentioned to her a community hall close by hosting a little festival, and were imploring them to help. Mary thinks it's a great opportunity, to satisfy children's hunger for candy and attention, stimulus. Maybe even she will like it.

She acts enough like a kid.

What else is there… ? Oh! During lunch, she had the forms photocopied for those who wanted to volunteer at the soup kitchen. She asked who was interesting in going. The grade 10s are always eager to be the first ones, and it seems their arms are pulled of their own accord, mistaking their arm, the energy in it, as their own. Their excitement as their own.

With grade 11s and 12s, it's different. Volunteering isn't what it is cut out to be. Those who consider it a glorifying experience are delusional, in her opinion. It is be grunt and dirty, and some will try touching you, hitting on you. Or hitting you. Most are kind, polite, sheepish, don't get her wrong, but, the crude ones, the unstable ones are burned into your eyes, skin. Mary is aware that there is no real _epiphany _gained, and she finds that's what a lot of people want. An epiphany, a realization how _wonderful _they are, even if they claim they are doing it to help, they're looking for rewards, repentance. Those that glorify it make it better then it seems, makes them think they are doing wonders.

It is a dream, an illusion of the mind that pulls their arms, until it shatters, cuts the strings.

A lot of the grade 11 and 12s stay because it looks good on a resume. Their arms seem limp, dead, compared to the grade 10s. She writes down the names.

The sun who promised her things is fading, more and more, each day.

_Stop it_, and with ease, she drowns it, banters with Ib; her complaining of all the work she had to do, Ib making wry comments. Ib makes mention about how the world seems to focus on work, making challenges, and why could that be? Mary says she has no idea, rise to the top, obviously? The girl who has surmounted so much shakes her head, and says there is more to it than that. Mary thinks about it, and then remembers someone she defeated, topped, so many years ago on her _first_ birthday, and she's decisive about changing the topic. If anything, Ib says it is not about defeating obstacles, but yourself. She can tell the other girl has more thoughts on it.

Mary doesn't think she will ever think that way.

Soon, she's successful finding something new to converse about, and she discusses Melody's potential _looove_ interest, and Ib calls her an inconsolable gossip. Then again, -here, Ib's face has something sorta kinda _impish _to it- perhaps she was so fevering to discuss other people's lives because of the confession.

Oh god. Really, Ib had to bring that up, _really_? She still suffers nightmares of acne, cheesy romantic music, professed yells of love in the hallway, and someone sniffing her old gym shoes. She stuffed them in the lost and found, doing a nice gesture for the school. Her gym shoes didn't like her, Mary didn't like them, so it was a mutual dislike. Thing is, they were still in good condition, and looked brand spanking new –maybe because they were only a few weeks old, but, you know- so why not take the high road? Let someone else use it. 'Sides, if she loses them, Ib will buy her a new pair.

Oh god, how twisted it became from her intentions when that sniffer –Jacob Lenning- found the initials Mary S, on it.

With quick work, that menace to Mary-kind was expelled. The rumours were still there though. Seriously, who stands on top of the cafeteria table to profess that stuff? Seriously! She says it one more time in her head. Seriously! Her face warms up. Curse that Lenning! Curse him for sighing and smelling her shoes, and shouting "I love you like a butterfly" stuff all the time!

See, this _reinforces _her reason to not like poetry, or anything too abstract. It got you in trouble, she tells ya! Her face doesn't cool.

Ib stops. Here, she _really_ shoulda thought this through, but she looks back. The painter is smirking, and there is a look on her face that Mary does not deserve, not after … ,"Your face is a canvas."

Those memories she tries to seal rise. A," work tongue, work lips," c-canvas?" she whispers. Her face is bleached, and the sun, leaves, geese fade from her senses. There is nothing but Ib's silhouette, her voice, right now.

Did she _remember?_

A nod. It's solemn, and thoughtful, and Mary can't help but remember when Ib first jumped out of the picture, how her face had a sense of _wrongness_ to it, as if she almost knew that Mary didn't fit, and when she looked at that candy, Mary didn't know what _to do_, so she ate it, crumpled it, and took away the lighter. _His lighter, her candy._

"Your face is painted like the sunset," Mary's thoughts stop, Ib tilts her head," don't you agree?"

W-what?

Mary doesn't reply, and she sees the amusement on her sister's face break down. Mary is still frozen, and concern frosts her sister's face. Too slow, to realize the joke, to hide her face. She wants to melt it, so she does the only thing she can do. She smiles, laughs.

Hopes to fool her. "Ehahaha! Very funny, Ib!" her hands are bunched in fists, but it's not because of Ib's jab.

The look doesn't fade. Of course, Ib just _knows _when to be a _darling_ sister,"I apologize, Mary," her fingers comb through her hair, trapped in a bun. She shakes her head,"I did not think it would affect you."

_I am the last person you should apologize to._"What _were_ you trying to say?"

"Your blush could match the sunset," there is confusion in Ib's voice, as if she explained it as such. Ib sometimes gets lost in her own thoughts, and thinks something that's obvious isn't. She's direct when she needs to be, but sometimes when she teases, tries to get close, she flounders, and doesn't realize it, doesn't realize she isn't thriving. Not well.

_Your fists are still tightened, silly. _Oh. She loosens them, thinks how ~_weeh-eeird~ _it must have been for the brunette to see her laughing like that. Probably makes her look psycho –the thought doesn't amuse her-. Mary, gotta twinkle the eyes, gotta unwind that body.

Concern still marrs Ib's face, but she shakes her head,"Come," Ib says.

Mary hears _promise me_.

* * *

"Ay, yiayia"

_Stomp._

"Ay, yiayia"

_Stomp, stomp… stomp!_

"Ay, yiayia"

_Stomp, stomp, stomp stomp… stomp-stompstomp_

"Where's my samurai?"

_Stomp stomp stomp stomp… stomp.-stompstomp-stompstomp._

_Stomp stomp... stompstompstomp- squeak- STOMPSTOMPSTOMP_

_ . . STOOOMP_

"I've searching for a man, all across Japan"

_STOMPITY STOMP STOMP –thud- … stomp… stomp…_

"Just to -,"

_SLAM_

"This game is EVIL!" Mary exclaims. She is waving her arms, to prove see, _see how crazy it is_ while she is perched on the pad, smacking warring notes with her hands. "It doesn't like _mee_, _Iiib_!" she clutches her sister's pants, and manages crocodile tears –score!- until Ib finally stops, and sits down with her.

_Game Over_ flashes on the screen.

The machine may have beaten her, but at least _she_ got Ib's attention. The brunette blows her bangs, and sits cross legged, while Mary kneels. She sniffles a bit more, then, noticing their scores, pushes the button to shoo them away. Ohoho, Ib doesn't need to see _that_, not at all. It may give Mary a _real _reason to cry. "Why doesn't it like _mee_?"

Ib looks over her shoulder. "They're entranced." It's an odd thing to say when you're comforting your sister, but Mary follows her gaze, and sees a bunch of rowdy guys. Eh, not really her type –she doesn't have one, a type-, but she preens herself, twirls her hair, and acts coy, shy. How can they _not_ find them attractive? Considering Mary was a plump C-cup, with some sleek curves that is _highlighted_ by her yellow skirt, and halter top, she is _fine _looking game; the ruffles and frills add to the cuteness! Sure, Ib is _only _a B-cup, and dresses conservatively. Still, she is lithe and petite, her black dress pants accentuate her long legs, a trail of fire as a design. She wears a tanktop, then an unbuttoned dress shirt. Mary approves, since her sister looks damn goood in those clothes, and she sees more than one person checking her sister out.

She beams with pride.

She steals glances at the boys, and winks when one of them catches her gaze. He looks confused.

"You really think so?" She flashes another smile, and the guy frowns.

Ib tilts her head up and down, another quirk on her lips," The pads bid you stay."

Ohhh. Well, that explains why the dude was like whaaaat- wait-a-minute! Her sister set her up! She twists her head to glare at her sister, which, coincidentally, made her miss the shy smile finally being sent by that slow guy, and pouts,"That's meeean!" her arms cross.

Her sister's laughing, mocking her. "I replied. You misunderstood."

"YoUuU!" Ib ignores her shout, stands up, offering her help up.

This is why Mary likes coming to the arcade.

She wipes the sweat off her brow, and grudgingly takes her sister's hand. It's so un_faair_. Mary loves the game with 1000 times more love than all the geeks who love the _butterfly_ song, but she could only play light! Her sister, who only has a passing interest in it, can play heavy now!

Then again, her sister did play their version at home, and practices it every day, for 30 minutes. Ib says it is a good cardio workout, but Mary could never do that because she and her love, DDR, are never meant to be. It would pass with the mourning of fizzling stars; they must meet so few times to preserve their love!

Besides, it's one more convenient excuse to hang out with her sister.

After that, they play a few more games. The guys are watching them, and Mary is getting agitated, so she sticks out her tongue, before epically failing a note she would have gotten if she hadn't done that. Intimate with the blame game, she doesn't blame it on herself- she blames it on _them_. So there! (She ignores the part that just wanted _we_; that wanted no barriers, no _them, _from this morning, crushes it). She hears them in the background, and it is grating on her nerves, but fiiinally they leave, so she can focus on her endgame! Wiping more sweat from her face with wipes she keeps conveniently in her bag, Mary offers one for her.

It's just, sooo gross dealing with your own excretements on your body. She has never really liked bio, but one thing that stuck last year was how an uber major component of urine was urea, and there are traces of it IN YOUR SWEAT! Grooooss!

At the same time, though, a part of her is excited that she _can _sweat, has an _excuse _for wipes. Not too long ago, she didn't. The feeling is still strange and foreign, and sometimes feels like disembodied ants sliding down her skin –a trickle here, a a leg there-, but she can live with it. Everyone at school –well, okay, a lot of her peers at school- know that she carries them, and is vigilant with drying her skin, A-SAP. But, that's okay, she can deal with these small burdens, and sometimes, she stares at the wipes, and thinks.

_Waa… it tool a REAALLY long time for me to get this far. YAY! _She remembers her first mistake when she entered here, the metal and the antiseptics still dry her nose, and sometimes, she can swear she feels-

Ib declines the offer, and the jot of new music jots Mary. She shakes her head, part in Ib refusing her offer –it was so GROSS! How could Ib stand it?- and her own thoughts. She forces down the memories, and instead thinks of how creepy she must look staring at her Kleenex soaked with body fluid with a dazed smile. It could be fun! Unnerving people.

One thing she looks up to Ib about, is how she's always comfortable with herself. She's comfortable skin, bones, fluids; all of it.

Her stomach grumbles, and her memories find it ironic. "Ib?"

She looks at her.

"Can we get some _foood_ after this?"

Ib nods.

"Teehee! Thanks!" with that, she actually recognizes the song,"Wow, you always choose _Angel Vanity_ for an end song… wait a-minute!" Mary edges closer," is that your secret?" she whispers.

"Perhaps," she answers, her tone's light.

Well, if _Vanity Angel _is her sister's good luck charm, she would make it hers too! Okay Mary, time to give it your all! You will defeat your sister this time! Yush! The song begins.

And, in 50 seconds, Mary is back on the floor, imploring Ib to join her. Ib ignores her this time. She slaps some notes, and gets her first "marvellous." Marvellous. Some more stomps and smacks later, the machine announces,"We have a wiinnnerrr!" Mary doesn't want to look, but she resigns herself to her fate. Ib got a sparkling roll of As on her songs, while Mary straddled C and had an affair with B.

Wait, B? "Yippee!" OH MY GOD! SHE GOT A B! Mary is jumping and spinning, raising her hands in the air," I got a ~Bee-ee~-EYAA!," she falls off the platform. Ib is calm, facing the screen, before turning away, tugging an eyebrow in Mary's direction. The arcade is really loud, but she could have sworn she heard some laughing. Meany. Meanies. They head to the food counter.

After nursing her immaculate ego, and waiting centuries –centuries, she tells you!- in line, they finally order. Mary points to all the things she wants; twizzlers, grape flavoured nerd candy, graped flavoured laffy taffy, and her favourite, REECES PIECES! Ib makes a remark how she will get type 2 Diabetes, and that one of the symptoms is becoming overweight. Well, she reacts like any mature, candy possessing young person would do.

She pulls down her eyelids.

'Sides, Mary isn't going to eat ALL of it. Yuck, what a stomach ache! She's only evverr had one once, and it was NOT fun –especially since it was kinda serious, and, Mary, don't think about this- so she always shares her candy with Ib. Mary is merry –"see the pun?" she points out to her friends when she says that- with a pastry and chocolate to candy any day! It was so ~yummy~ and nifty how a lot of it has to cook in a LOOT of heat before it can be eaten! Candy has this plastic taste to it she's never been fond of, but she noticed from an early age how Ib loved the bland taste of it. So, putting herself last, every time they go to the movie arcade, she allwaaays gets those candies, since Ib especially loves nerd candy! The reeces pieces are Mary's, Mary's!

So, Mary nums all her beach coloured orbs first, then goes to town on the twizzlers. Of course, she leaves one or two for her sister, and then snatches a biig chunk of the laffy taffy. This way, Mary can see she is full, and Ib will tease her some more. Another nifty thing is if Mary does it this way, Ib will eat the candy. See, by getting full, that leaves the best –blegh- candy Ib likes for last! If she suggests Ib to get something for herself, or to choose, she won't pickanything; Mary has tried. Ib focuses too much on making sure Mary has a fun time, that she gets what she wants.

So, if she can turn her sister's frown upside down, it's worth it. Plus, it is fun watching Ib pluck a nerd candy in her mouth, chewing it with her eyes closed, and savouring the taste, before grabbing another one. She's the type to relish what she has, take her time to enjoy reprieves, because they are few and far in between for her. The blonde frowns.

Ib works so hard. Working at that McDonalds. It's not uncommon for her to be gone 12 hours on the weekend, or to come home at 1:00 AM from work. Mary tries to do the grocery shopping, but Ib has none of it, tells her to focus on her homework, while Ib's grades suffer. She takes little care of her health, of her emotions, of anything really. Her grades…

Ib is a smart girl, a lot smarter than Mary. A prodigy, in ~ac-tu-alll-liity~. In grade 1, she managed to skip one whole grade! She got 100s in everything. In grade 4, it was even greater! She got all the bonus marks too! Grade 5, she started to only get 90s, and 6, 80s, but, it was to be expected, r-right? Sure, Ib's smart, but she is only a young kid, and maybe her super fast how-did-you-get-that-smart-brain-power was slowing down. She was ahead for awhile, but now, she had gone as ahead as she could. So, that was it, right? Just normalizing... right?

Juniour high, highschool. She lost all interest. Her grades slipped, like a crayon Mary put in the water, to see what it would _do_. It hit the bottom of the tub. The pretty paper casing shredded. Its yellow colour bled into the water, slowly, but surely. It can't come up, not by itself. **3**

Then, it's gone

It bugs her because Ib is smart and the teachers know she's really smart, and she answers questions like _that_, but, sometimes, Ib stays up all night, when she isn't at work. Mary hears the _splat_, and _swish_ of a paintbrush. It continues for awhile; a _swish _of her flipping a rough draft, the _clatter _when her pallette falls. But, sometimes... there are too many _splats_, and then she hears the _creak_ of Ib's chair, More splats. Ib's breaths are laboured, and Mary imagines each one is a blotch of colours. Colours she uses for Mary's birthday card.

It was only sometimes, before. Now, it's all the time.

Mary worries, but, she can't approach Ib. The girl who works so hard shrugs off attention, and despite her serious demeanour, she _always _tries to make Mary comfortable, happy. But, but, that doesn't stop her to worry. She tries to relax, calm down. Ib hasn't given up on her future, there's no way she could! Besides, Ib is too proud for Mary to use her back as a pedestal. Too proud, the world would have to be crazy! _Yeah, that can't be it! It's gotta be something else! _Yet, for a moment, for a moment, she's in another time where she held a palette knife and her world was made of crayons.

It's getting harder and harder, for Mary to escape it. "Umm… Ib?" Her eyes stare at her lap.

"Mm?" she hears a _crinkle _and a _crunch_.

"Do you," she begins, stops. _Try again. _"Hey, this is suuuper crazy, but you know, I kinda ditched my friend Melody today because stuff was going on and –oh my goodness, the time flew!- so when I finally saw her, it was at the end of the day which was silly, I mean, S to the I to the L-L-Y –and that rhymes! Yay!- and she was cool with it, because she had other people to hang out with, BUT," she takes in a bundle of air,"but I kinda, sorta, teensy bitsy winsy regret it, because she is really, _really _fun, but, there's nothing to apologize so, whatshouldIdo? Should I think on it, still? Or be a boss, and ignore it?" she glances up from her balled hands. (She asks the wrong question. She doesn't regret it).

Ib blinks, inclines her head. There is something thoughtful, whimsical in her gaze. She turns over the nerd candy in her hand, looks it this way and that, before putting it in the box, closesit. The container is placed in the breast pocket of the dress shirt. Wait, is that... ?Now that Mary really looks at it, the dress shirt is kind of transparent, and where Ib's heart would be is the faint hue of purple.

Mary is still waiting for an answer. Ib stares at the container of the Laffy Taffy, poking and prodding it, before holding it in her hand, making it condensed, close, before opening her palm again. She is really hoping Ib isn't spacing out, because sweat is dripping down her face, but she's afraid, so afraid, to wipe it.

Finally, Ib strokes the plastic container, before placing it on the table. There is something about those eyes, about Ib, Mary cannot touch, or reach. _Well, duhh! Don't wanna poke 'em out! _Those wine eyes meet hers. She sighs,"It depends."

Oh seriously, did Ib have to get a sense of humour right _now_? She waited two minutes for THAT? Mary straightens her lap, imaging straightening her anger, smoothing it out, like creases. "Dep_eeends_?" she places her hand on the table.

Instead of Ib keeping her back hard rod straight, it is slouched, resting on the table. It's awhile before Ib speaks, just staring at that wrapper. Finally, she pushes it away, and her back is straight again. "On the situation." Her eyes are resolved, and have that look Mary sees when she is defending herself from a bully. It's unyielding, but there's pain there you can just see. This gaze isn't truly directed at Mary, she knows –hopes-, but wonders why Ib has to keep pushing away weakness?

"Geez, thank you omnipotent Ib, that helped _soo_ much."

"There's more." Mary refrains sarcasm, and keeps her mouth shut. "There are some things that you can never change," she starts," it is something you will live with. However," she pauses, her eyes soften,"it doesn't have to be regret."

Her heart leaps,"Really? How?"

"You learn from it. Change it. Don't make the same mistake, and you realize," Ib gazes skyward –well, ceiling ward-," it is a learning experience. If there is a remedy, than it is not a regret; an experience," she sighs, then touches Mary's knuckles," the regret is knowing how to fix it, but doing nothing." Her hands are still there, and Mary sees flashes of Ib on the floor, fist raised, and his swollen cheek," If you can resolve it, then there is no regret."

"Only an experience," Mary deadpans. _The regret is knowing how to fix it, but doing nothing "_Geez, you're sounding like Uncle Ben from _Spiderman_ here, with his do good, all good, every good, wherever good, everywhere you can when you can good."

Ib shrugs. Her brows are furrowed, then she opens her mouth, but Mary beats her to it,"Anway!" she rises from her seat," Let's go look around, look around!" and starts marching.

She isn't clean, yet.

* * *

"This way!" she announces, raising a dramatic hand to point for the best that life has to offer for weary souls journeying to and from.

Petland.

Attached by fingers, electric pulses, and fate, Ib came. For all of her dragging, and Ib following, people probably thought that Mary was wearing the pants in this sisterhood! (Well, okay, she was wearing a _skirt_ but that's besides the point!). Sure, Mary had that –OMG-Sugar-craze-GIMME-GIMME-WEEEH!-up-the-tramboline-with-a-side-of-an-energy drink child feel, and a booming voice, so people totally thought that Ib just did whatever Mary said.

How wrong that was.

That was the myth, Mary, being the one in control. The reality was that she could go that way because _Ib _let her, because Ib didn't mind humouring her, and her hand was loose when grasping hers, yeah, but there was something firm, real, commanding that you only know if you, well, _know_ her.

Unbidden came the image of Mary being some energy drink buzzed Chihuahua-running-sixty-circular-miles-a-minute. Complete with Ib's hand being some weird leash, commanding,"Stay."

She snorted.

"Can you _believe_ it Ib? They're doing renovations right here in our humble mall, and they're putting in another movie theatre! But not just any," she turns to Ib, gesticulating with her arms,"it's an I TO THE M TO THE MAX! IMAX!" she squeals. Oooh, maybe they'll have the Lion King, or maybe some weird aquarium documentary! "And it will be in THREE-DEEE!" she holds up three fingers. You know, just to emphasize the point.

Ib chuckles softly,"Have not, want not."

Insert pout here,"Ohhh_ youuuu_. That's no fun!"

"You're right."

"Darn straight I'm ri-" and then she realizes how her voice could be broken by a breath, how her eyes grows distant. "Iibb?" she whispers, and there's something in her voice, but she thinks its desperation. She squeezes Ib's hand harder, because, they're, they're connected. N-nothing could come between them, nothing.

_Nothing_? She could hear its sneer, and swore it came from the snot nosed brat behind them. Not from her mind, not from something else.

Not from them.

Ib squeezes back, and her body laxes. She escapes the noose around her neck, tries to find something funny, silly, to think about. ~Hey!~ _The squeeze from Ib's hand is like a pregnancy! __Wait, yuck._ Not that I can get pregnant, pretty sure I can't with the whole I AM A RANDOM THING! status. A contraction is groo-

Wait. Her mind does a 180. No, Ib's hand isn't that kind of contraction, but one from a heart beat. It's rhythm is the same. Contract, relax, contract, relax. Squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax.

_Lub dub, lub dub. _

The thought isn't as goofy, as hilarious as it should be.

"It's a lie."

"Ib?"

Her sister shrugs it off, pretends it's something easy to get rid of, but Mary knows, understands, was possessed, by how cloying it gets. Her sister mouth is tugged up, but it might as well be held there by dissection pins. _Prick, prick, I don't need anything! Prick, prick, stab._ Ib points a finger,"Petland,"

Mary wants to probe further, but she doesn't want to.

Doesn't want to lose her. Does the only thing she can.

"Right, to the cute fuzzies we ~gooo~!" And they went.

When they enter the store, they look at different things, from, like, those creepy, creepy spiders –ants are your frieeends!- to creepy, creepy, TARANTULA spiders. Then scorpions; they were nifty, with their hooked tail and armoured body. Ib had pawed near the glass, her breath mingling with the cage. Mary had tugged at Ib's collar –hehe, collar- from behind, that they should look at something else. Maybe some dogs, or kittehs, or something like that? Unless her sister has a death wish, she is definitely NOT going to die when her dear elder sister just became an adult! Ib didn't turn 18 until next year! What was she going to do without her destined drinking buddy? What then Ib, _whaaat_! At this point, she was clucking Ib's back. Everyone was pretty much looking at them because of Mary's eloquent request, and then proceeded flapping her. By the collar.

It took all of that before Ib finally moved away from the glass. YAY! Now they could look at- at the lizards. Great. A blasphemous thought came to her. What if she is becoming immune to her CHARM? Impossible!

Though, she sure took her time, and was now looking at reptiles! Madness, pure madness!

Reptiles were worse.

_Because you're like them?_

Shut up, youuu.

Well, this time Mary kept her distance, looked at her nails as if anything that wasn't her cuticles was surely inferior.

Hah! Take that Ib! She will see how Ib will cower over the disappearance of her sister, and realize what blessing she has lost! She has tarnished her self with her resilience and betrayal, thus, she would beg! Beg on the floor! Ahaha! Ahahahaha! Hahahaha… ha… ha… ahhh…

She should have been cowering by now. Mary spared an itty bitty bit of a glance. Ib seemed pretty focused on those cages. Darn.

Sighing, she slid against a cool cage. Turning, she saw it was an aquarium, and some weird fish was making out with the glass. Well, cleaning it. Then, destiny thundered down, and its gaze was locked on hers and hers on it. Weeeird. Not the first time it had happened, but weeeird. She stuck her tongue out. You know, for good measure.

This was her punishment, for she was a wayward god who could not keep herself in the people's hearts. And thus, she was forever ensnared by this fish, who would vacuum her face. She slid down, hands reaching to the heavens, praying, praying, for another chance, but it was too late, as her body grew heavier than an elephant. Mary fluttered her eye lashes dramatically, again. _Good bye cruel world…_

"Mary."

Her bounciness returns over time. She explodes up, her arms signalling the regrowth of her sparkly wings that, you know, only she could see, before placing her curled hands under her chin. It kinda looks like she was doing the I-gotta-go-pee dance with her feet, but that's besides the point! "Iib! You're done? You're ready? We can move on?" Yay! She was patient, and silent, and now she was blessed! Oh glorious-

Ib's pale hand points to something behind her, and her lips tug upward. Mary's hopes shatters. With a smirk like that, even the Devil will be jealous! "What about the fish?"

Her fingers twitch. And eyebrow. "Fiiine." She drags her feet.

Ib was taking her sweet time to look at all the fish. They had passed that vacuum fish –so long, she bid it-, some clown fish, other creepy fish, big fish, large fish, and, hey, fish! She huffed. Some, Ib simply stared at, others, she poked the glass, and some brave or curious fish would approach, trying to nibble her finger. It was kind of entertaining. Buut, for the most part Ib just watched, silent. What were a few passing moments to her, felt like _decades_ to Mary.

"Are you done, are you done?" she pesters, breaking her five minute record. Now it is at seven.

"You are the one who suggested we come."

She stomps her foot," You _know_ it's because I wanna see the cute, fluffy animals, you sadist, you!"

"Does acting childish help?"

She gives her the same elegance she granted the janitor-vaccuum fish.

She sticks out her tongue.

" May you lead, Lady Mary," Ib bows, but not low enough for the broken container to leave her heart.

"Well, if you put it that way," she harrumphs, before looming over her sister. She makes weird gestures with her phalanges. Well, fingers, but phalanges sounds so much more spooky and weeeird! –Woow, weird is word of the day- "I will torment you with things upon things by scarring yours hands with all stuff," here, she drops her voice more, to make it all the more creepy, like her phalanges," cute and fluffy," a pause," even-if-theyarebirdsfirst, but anywho,"She places her hands on her hips, cranes her head back, and lets out a laugh,"OH HOHOHOHO! AHAHAHA- TREMBLE IN-" Ib just walks past. Mary just kind of freezes there, for a minute or two. Her brain has to catch up, smell the daisies, that kind of thing.

Errrk! She didn't even grace her threat with a sound! A sound. The plotter rubbed her hands together. She would make her pay! Maybe should use the age old evil laugh. MuhahahaHAHAHAHA!

"Mommy, does that lady need help?"

"Nevermind, dear."

… Heh. So Mary followed and gave her plight upon plight on the dear Ib; made her hold birds, pet mice upon the blonde's whim, deal with mewing and woofing. Dogs would lay their heads on her lap; kitties would paw at her, before cocking their heads. Some of the guina pigs curled to her body! Not a twitch, nadda, from her. Mary was feeling desperate.

But, there was naught to despair! She has a _trump_ card. Marry rubs her hands together, but she doesn't laugh this time. Come on, people were supposed to speculate she's crazy, but if she went all out, then she would lose that mystic charm! Or, get-kicked-out. Still!

She looks up from her hands. Ahh, Ib has fallen into her trap.

There, her sister stands, looking upon the very thing that will reap her destruction.

Bunnies.

Outside, Mary was cool and composed, but inside, she cackles with all the forces witches throughout the centuries cackle, and she makes them proud with her ear shredding laugh, even if only she hears it. Stepping closer, she saw Ib with a look she hadn't seen in a long while.

Awe.

A light pink dusts her cheeks, and her eyes widen, pupils big. She reaches a finger out, as if Ib cannot believe these furry animals exist, making an,"Eep," sound whenever a bunny's wet nose touches her fingertip. Mary doesn't think Ib notices this, but when the bunnies' noses twitche, hers does too.

She isn't pointing that one out any time soon.

Haha! All is not lost! She cerebrates -Hehe, cerebrated, celebrated, it sounds like two words in one!- about what she could do, thus, it is here her goal is finally met.

Ib's eyes radiate. She doesn't know why, but something about Ib changes when she gazes at bunnies. There are creases on her forehead that fade from her forehead, that are so negligible, it isn't noticeable. Not by anyone who doesn't know her well, anyway. Her face becomes smooth, flat. Her jaw loosens. The pupils widen, and you can see the shy child she once was, long ago. Before Mary's birthday, before she was here. Before Ib lost her innocence.

There is just one final touch. She taps Ib with one of her fingers, and Ib looks at her, sees her holding a bunny. Mary outstretches her arms, holding it like a child. Ib hesitates, but picks it up. Her fingers stroke ever so gently on the fur, and there's something in her eyes, lighter, higher than the sun, pure energy and life.

And, at last the stiff line of her mouth curls, loosens. It's not a smirk, and it's not a quirk made for – _my sake_- but something more, genuine, real. Things only she notices. Others would see a girl brooding, somewhat relaxing, but that's it.

Mary knows better. Sees how it all adds. She nods her had sagely. _Bunny cures all_.

Mary wants to take her here more often, -once a month, once a week, daily- but, she doesn't have enough reasons, enough courage.

_But, maybe there is something I_** can**_ do_. With that, she leans forward, about to speak, but snaps her mouth shut. Glance side to side. Anyone looking? No? Good. The coast is clear. Mary has a top secret mission assigned to her; she will succeed.

She nudges Ib,"You like the bunny, don't you?"

"A-ah," she ducks her chin in her chest. Cute.

She whispers in her ear,"You know, we should totally _~keeep~_ it. It's like, my birthday present for you. Pretty pleeease?" She bats her eyes.

Her mouth becomes a straight line. Her voice is as flat as her lips,"No."

"But, but," no, keep your calm. You gotta be secretive, debonair, make them guess at your motive, but never let them be right. She breathes in. "We would take good care of it. I could feed it, you could clean its smelly cage, or if the smell was that overpowering, I could clean it every now and then for you."

Ib's arms tense. Her fingers petting the bunny are jerk, atrophying. "No."

This isn't going how she wants it. "But, but-" Ib holds a hand up.

"Mother and father won't like it." Her eyes steeple," and it's _they_, not _it_."

Mary clenches her fists.

Doesn't she get it? This bunny could make Ib so much happier! She's always hiding something, guarding something. Even when she's laughing, chuckling, there is a linger, an after taste of shadow in her voice, clinging to her skin, and Mary, Mary-

Just wants her to be happy. Yet, she refuses to allow her to give her this, after so long. She doesn't notice Ib taking a step back, or how her whole body tenses. Something simmers,"It's not like mommy and daddy are around, anymore," the words are biting, sneering, sheer chunks out of her sister. She shouldn't have said that.

It's a moment, a sentence, too late.

Ib places the bunny down, so slowly, it seems like she isn't moving, that the cage is rising to meet her, to keep the bunny safe, protected. Her sister's vulnerability is put aside, hardens. Her hands are fists.

Mary has failed her mission. She's not secretive and debonair, but she could be a spy, because she can get people's trust, twist the truths, make them feel comfortable.

And then destroy them.

_Ahh?!_

_Whoa, are you okay?!  
Ah! Wait!  
Are you… one of the visitors to the gallery?!  
_…_As I thought…  
I am… this girl is…_

_I… I was looking to see if there was anyone else too…  
I wanted to get out…  
_

_So I…_

… _Would you like to come with us?  
_

_I am … this girl is …  
Are you… one of the visitors to the gallery…_

The words are ringing, and ringing, jeering, mocking. She can't take how her sister stands far away, how formidable she looks. An abandoned fortress. Mary grabs her hands, brings them up, and squeezes. There is no pulse back, but she keeps on sending them, trying so hard to loosen her fingers, free them from her palm. _Sorry_ and things Mary can't even begin to apologize for is sent.

Ib looks down at her, not possible, because Mary is taller, but the shadows cross her face, gives them a cut. Her eyes are marble. Formidable fortress.

Mary is close enough to hear her breath, hoarse, harsh. She closes her eyes, knows this. One hand holds her sister's, the other wraps around her back, bring their hearts closer. Mary's chest is pressed against Ib's, and Ib surely can feel her heart beat, but Mary can't feel hers.

The box is there.

"Look, Ib," she opens her eyes, sighs," I shouldn't have said that. It's hard on me too, with mom and dad working so much, you know?" she's pleading, her voice quiet, hoping it will carry through the cracks, crevices. Mary's eyes soften. Water, to free the stone, loosen it. "What I said was uncalled for. But maybe, maybe, when they're back, we can both ask them?" she drops her hands. Ib's hands stay in the shape Mary moulded them, relaxed, limp. The bunny held, moments ago, presses itself to the cage; Mary picks up them up, offers it to her. "I know they'll probably say no, and it may cause some stress if we get the bunny, but, I think it would both do us some good, you know?" she smiles, her eyes closed, and she gushes in as much cheerfulness she can,"Besides, who wouldn't want this bunny!" she holds one of the bunnies paws, before tilting her head. "Nyah!"

Finally, Ib's gaze abate. She takes the offered bunny, holds it again. Time, so fleeting, rushes by. Mary's lungs are tight, squeezing. Ib is still stiff, why is she stiff?. Sure, it's her normal stiffness, but a bunny is supposed to cure all, a bunny is supposed to make her happy, tender! No, Ib isn't supposed to be so unmoving, unfeeling. The time ticks, and how long have they played this game? How long has Mary tricked her?

The bunny is sniffing Ib, sniffing her arm. With that gesture Ib begins to lose focus on that one thing, but her awareness spreads, takes everything in.

Her lungs loosen, fill with air. Ib turns to her, offers the bunny. When she takes it, her sister's hand curls around her own. It isn't a claw, and she didn't hold her hand, but she felt the squeeze.

_Lub dub._

"Awww, isn't it so cute?"

Ib's blush is back, and her fingers as soft on the rabbit as its fur,"yeah…"

"And look at its ears."

"Mmm…"

"And what a cute nose!"

"indeed…" this one is more breathy than the others. Mary, can believe time will not mock her now, and she can pretend she has as much time as she can breathe, that she can regenerate it every second, with her breath. She just needs to hold it in, Mary, hold it in, don't breath out.

Mary dimly remembers her other mission objective. Her hand twiches. Why not? She gives the rabbit back to Ib, whose gaze is enthralled. Slowly, she brings up her camera, hides it with the bag's flap something that will be Ib's undoing.

"And, ohh, I think it wants to look at you!"

"Mmmm."

And right when Ib's and the bunny's nose touch. Mary snaps a picture. And takes a moment to look at it, Ib's face almost looks like it is wincing, but it is like someone feeling rain for the first time. Startling, nourishing. She runs out the door, into the hallway. The next one is Ib and the bunny, both curiously investigating each other, as if it is the first time they have met, but they have known each other for so long, both on the verge of remembering something nice, exciting.

World shattering.

But now, is not the time to ponder such things. She has limited time before her sister charges after her, and she will not let go of these pictures. Mary cradles the camera to her heart.

They are too precious.

She decides on doing a count down. 1… 2… 3…

"MARY." The blonde glances behind her. Sure enough, Ib is racing after her, looking a lot like a kid robbed of their favourite toy. Mary sticks her tongue out, ignores how people look at them.

They will probably be escorted out by security guards.

Glancing behind her, seeing the annoyance –not anger- in her sister's eyes, and hearing her exerted breaths –so much like Mary's, right now- she can't help but think one thing. How normal this is, how everything is okay between them if she can snap such photos.

It's worth it, so worth it.

* * *

Hello everyone!

Gosh, this writing style is so strange for me! Apparently, the story is inclined to whenver the character is reviewing information internally in their head, they go to past tense, if they are really aware of the situation or feeling really strongly about something in their reflections, they go to present tense, a lot of onomatopoeia's, a lot of dialogue, dashes, etc.

It's different from my writing style with other fanfics and original novels I work on, but enjoyable. I do wish that Mary's thought process was a bit cleaner, though. I'm not sure why Mary decided to ask about regret, considering it is guilt she feels, but maybe she thinks regret is more acceptable than guilt?

Anyway, what did you think? Was it enjoyable? What parts did you like? What could be improved on? Considering there can be some leeway for what the characters are like, since this is set eight years later, would you say it is acceptable with how I make them interact, speak? Anything you would like to see more of? Should I clean up the style that this fic insists on imposing on me? Do I describe too much? If you know that you will not answer all these questions, than a simple review is lovely too, whther it is just a,"It's good," or what have you.

Also, should I get a beta? There are a lot of scenes I will admit I struggle with, more so with which word would be best suited, or if I should erase a sentence or two, to make it poignant, efficient. A few scenes in this bothered me, but it is a matter of preference, I suppose. I have already editted it twice; perhaps I will revise it later. Anyway, cia! Have a lovely day!


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